Twinfluenza
by dontdoubtme1234321
Summary: Short drabble I was inspired to write after seeing some amazing sick!fic artwork. Sick!fred and his caring brother George, with mentions of the rest of the Weasley clan.


Hey guys! Here's another sick!fic from my archives. Sometimes I find pieces of artwork that just inspires me, and this is one of those stories. I have to say I think HP is my favorite to write, and I hope to get some more done soon! Anyway- enjoy, and please review!

George winced as another coughing fit racked the form of his brother, Fred. His similar form had somehow caught a nasty flu bug smack in the middle of summer, and as though God had decided to play a trick, it was also the week of the annual Weasley Family Vacation. Funny enough, Molly had agreed to leave George with his sick brother home alone, as long as they flooed every day. It was a big turn in trust, but it probably had to do with the fact that the trip couldn't be postponed, and because George had _begged_ to stay rather than go have fun. The dedication in his eyes made Molly melt, and the fact that if one of the twins were down for the count, then the other wouldn't set fire to the house was a big contributing factor to the trust. Though, it did take two of the brothers and Arthur to drag Molly out of the house.

Now, George was juggling a cup of tea, another blanket, and an assortment of potions and Fred was curled up in a tattered armchair, coughing up his lungs. Quickly, George threw the items down on the small table and knelt down next to Fred, straightening him up and offering him water and potions. Fred nodded, accepting the water gratefully, but when the potion bottle started making its way over to him, Fred spluttered, and set down his drink. Wildly shaking his head 'no', Fred stared at George, pleading with his eyes. George sighed.

"C'mon Fred, you're sick and this helps. Now do I need to give this to you or can you handle it?" George teased, madly chuckling. Fred grimaced.

"Not sick." Fred croaked, before coughing once more. George groaned.

"Not this again!" George exclaimed, slapping down the bottle he held. "Fred, you truly are an idiot. If you weren't sick, would we be stuck here instead of going on our only family trip?" Fred frowned.

"You didn't have to stay here with me. Sorry to be such a bummer." He choked out, turning in the armchair and coughing once again. George sighed.

"You know I didn't mean it like that. I chose to stay here, and honestly if I went on the trip without you it would be hell. And you know what would be worse? You getting sicker and only having me to help. So, just this once, can you listen to me?" George asked exasperated. Fred frowned, snagging the potion and downing it in one gulp. A shudder ran through him as the horrid taste hit Fred, but it passed as soon as it came.

"Happy now?" Fred coughed out. George smirked, and handed his brother the water.

"Not entirely. Only when you get well."

After flooing the other Weasleys and discussing that yes, Fred was still alive, and that yes, the house was still standing George settled down next to Fred, who was wheezing more than ever. He looked absolutely pathetic, swaddled in blankets, nose red as a cherry, his eyes dark, hugging a teddy bear to his chest. George wanted to help more than he was, but he didn't know how and it was killing him inside.

"George?" Fred coughed out "Do you mind getting me a blanket?"

"Another one?!' George asked incredulously. He then looked at Fred shivering, who looked like a puppy who just got kicked. "No, I don't mind at all." George said, getting another blanket and other supplies. Making his way back into the room, George helped his brother with the blanket, and then squeezed in next to him with a blanket and a book of his own.

"What are you doing? And why do you have a book?" Fred asked hoarsely. George smiled and pulled the book open.

"I'm getting comfortable. And I know you are exhausted but your coughing is keeping you up. So I made you some tea, and I'm going to do what mom always did when we couldn't sleep: Read a story. Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a man named Rumplestiltskin...

Molly and Arthur were the last to make it inside the Burrow, therefore being hushed by their children. Sadly, their trip had to be postponed to the next month because of a switch up in dates, but it seemed the slip up had just come right on time. In the armchair (really only made for one person) the twins sat, George with a book open on his lap, and Fred with a pile of tissues, both snoring away like a wood chipper. And, by the way both of them were coughing and hacking, Molly knew they had come home just in time to tend to their sick boys.


End file.
